Against All Odds: Many Unhappy Returns
by CharlieCaller
Summary: After Henry gets his discharge, a familiar face returns to disrupt life at the 4077th. Complete story! [Pls RR]
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters used in this story do not belong to me, but they belong to M*A*S*H and its companies. I am not making a profit from this story.  
  
Title: Against All Odds: Many Unhappy Returns  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The sun was fading that evening in Korea. It drifted behind threatening storm clouds, casting shadows over all the world below. Two people were unaware, away in their own world. Trapper John McIntyre and Margaret Houlihan lay side by side on the grass, talking and sharing their innermost thoughts.  
  
Having gone through so much since the passing of his dear wife and children, Trapper found that Margaret was his rock, and someone he loved with all his heart. He could lean on her at any time, and she knew exactly what to say or do to help him.  
  
"Are you cold?" Trapper asked her. "Hey, you're shivering." He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, moving closer to him.  
  
Their best friends at the camp were Hawkeye Pierce and BJ Hunnicutt. Hawkeye had been Trapper's best friend from the start, and then BJ arrived sometime later and became an instant companion to the tent mates.  
  
The relationship between Trapper and Margaret was not ordinary. They began as work colleagues, progressed to dislike each other and eventually became a couple. Margaret and one Major Frank Burns had always seen themselves as the perfect partners, but Margaret saw much more in Trapper than she ever did in Frank. There was the courage that Frank had lacked, the honesty, loyalty and stability, knowing that Trapper would be there for her whatever the problem.  
  
Frank was a tense subject for both parties to talk about. For Trapper, he was someone to be compared to, and Margaret, because it was a part of her life that she would sooner forget. Still, there were times when it had to be talked about.  
  
"It didn't feel real. Like a whirlwind romance, fast, unfeeling," Margaret explained. "When I'm with you, we take our time and talk more. It's not just our hearts, but more than that."  
  
Hawkeye decided that the two were good for each other. Margaret would always be there for Trapper, no matter what, and Trapper would keep Margaret's feet on the ground and stop the Army way of life from going to her head.  
  
"I wonder if Henry's found his present yet," Trapper mused, a grin forming on his face.  
  
Margaret rolled her eyes. "What have you done to him now?"  
  
"Well, you know, Henry's been different, sort of off, since we removed his appendix. So, to cheer him up, we found him a new one, and put it in his fishing hat where he is sure to find it."  
  
Margaret laughed. "You three don't change. I'm surprised that Henry hasn't been shipped home in Klinger's Section 8 truck with all the stuff you've done to him." Although Klinger was less persistent about getting out of the army since his ordeal with the bus, it was still a standing joke within the camp.  
  
"Well, we've been limited, since Frank left, of people to be the butts of our jokes. Henry is definitely the best one to play them on, and Radar comes in a very close second."  
  
Margaret nodded, and the two went back to thinking for a minute. "It was right for you to stay in the Swamp, and not move into mine. Apart from the fact that its against the rules, not that the rules have stopped you before, but you three have got one of the strongest bonds of friendship I've ever seen. Especially you and Hawkeye," she added.  
  
"Hawk's my best friend, the best I could ever have. He's been there for me from Day One, and visa versa." Trapper thought to those times. One of those times was when he tried to adopt Kim, the cutest boy in Korea. When that had fallen through, Hawkeye was there for him.  
  
"BJ is like another pea in your pod. Did I hear that it was his idea to hang Klinger's underwear from the flagpole?"  
  
"Yeah, it was," Trapper laughed. She was right, of course. BJ was not all that different from Hawkeye and himself. Full of quips, remarks and practical jokes on one side, and a highly skilled surgeon on the other.  
  
There was another moment of silence between Margaret and Trapper. The couple were happy just to be in each other's company, occasionally sharing their thoughts. In actual fact, the couple were generally happy. Their love was deep, meaningful, and not fast-paced like other relationships they had been in.  
  
The silence was only broken by a sudden rush of activity that seemed to arrive at once. The faint rumble of choppers could be heard, followed by an announcement on the PA system. "Attention all personnel. Incoming wounded. Both shifts to OR immediately. That's both shifts, it's gonna be a long one."  
  
Margaret and Trapper were on their feet in seconds. It seemed that the announcement broke the clouds above, and the rain began to pour from skies above.  
  
"Incoming rain, too," Trapper noted. He was about to sprint towards the OR when he witnessed a sickening sight in the sky. A chopper was in difficulty, and crashed not far from the minefield.  
  
There was no hesitation in Trapper's mind as he raced to the site of the almighty blast. The remains of the chopper were still in flames, and there was nothing that could be done for the patient that had been riding on the side of aircraft. Instead, Trapper turned his attention to the pilot, who bad been thrown some distance away from the helicopter.  
  
"Can you hear me?" After checking the damage, Trapper decided that he needed attention to the shoulder and chest, as well as treatment for burns. "You're going to be fine," he promised him. A stretcher arrived and the casualty was taken away. Trapper ran towards the OR, ready to start operating on some of the victims of war.  
  
The OR was an example of an organised frenzy that evening. The wounded kept coming and coming, and the doctors kept mending them. One of the first patients to be operated on was Corporal Mark Seeley, the pilot in the chopper crash.  
  
Trapper took care of this operation, mainly because it worked out that way. He secretly hoped that he would operate on him, because he was the one who had brought him and he wanted to see him through.  
  
Radar entered the OR halfway through the session. "Sir," he began, talking to Henry Blake.  
  
"We aren't giving out freebies today, Radar. Come back next week," Henry joked, lightening the tense mood.  
  
"Sir, I was clearing up your desk and you still haven't opened that letter you received over a month ago. It's addressed to just you, privately, so I really can't open it. I know you can't open it now, but I still thought I'd remind you."  
  
"Is it important, that letter?"  
  
"Looks like it is," Radar reported.  
  
"Well, put it on my desk or some other place I can't find it."  
  
"Okay, sir."  
  
"Brilliant, Henry. We'll win the war by ignoring all of our important mail," Hawkeye quipped.  
  
"Oh boy," Trapper groaned. He was still working on Seeley, and the operation was not going as he had hoped.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I may need to amputate his arm. I mean, when this guy came it didn't look this bad, but now." Trapper trailed off.  
  
Hawkeye peered over the patient, and pointed Trapper in the right direction. "There, he'll be flying choppers in no time," Hawkeye promised him.  
  
After the session of surgery, BJ and Margaret sat in the Mess Tent, recovering from the gruelling hours in the O.R. They sipped stale coffee, praying for no taste.  
  
"Tough day," Margaret murmured, half a question and half a statement.  
  
"What day is it?" BJ asked. "I lost them all inside my patients."  
  
"If that's the case, we probably lost about a month or two in OR."  
  
"That many?" BJ was genuinely surprised. "I couldn't have done even a handful of them."  
  
"That's because you had all the cases that took the time and blood. Don't doubt yourself, Beej, you're a great doctor."  
  
BJ looked up and smiled. "I can see why Trapper fell in love with you." As Margaret blushed, BJ continued. "I can see a lot of Peg in you. You know exactly what to say to help someone."  
  
Margaret shrugged. "Guess that's why I became a nurse."  
  
"What. is. that?"  
  
"You groaned, sir?"  
  
"Radar, do you think I'm a bad commander, or even a bad person?"  
  
Radar thought for a moment. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I don't really think I deserved an appendix in my fishing cap. Awh, look at that, there's bits of guts all over the place! It's stuck to one of the hooks!" Radar looked away, not really happy to see that so soon before breakfast.  
  
Henry had just found the present from the three captains, and he was less than impressed. "Captains, times three. Take your pick. Well, Radar, this is the final straw."  
  
"You're gonna bring them up on charges, sir?" Radar asked incredulously.  
  
"I'm gonna do better than that, Radar."  
  
The young corporal gasped. "You're gonna get them in front of a firing squad?"  
  
Henry rolled his eyes. "No, no, no. I'm not Hitler, you know. No, my plan is better than that." Henry had it all figured out. For a long time, he had been the butt of almost every practical joke in the camp. The time had come to pay back the jokers.  
  
Radar wondered what Henry had in mind. Double Post-Op duties? Enlisted work? Banned from R&R until further notice? Or worse. the job of cleaning the latrines? No, Radar thought. Henry was not that sort. But then, he did have that look in his eye. The last time he had that look. come to think of it, he had never had that look in his eye!  
  
"All right, Radar. Listen to this. I know it breaks every rule in the book, and some rules that aren't even in the book, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Here's what we're gonna do."  
  
BJ left the Mess tent long after Margaret had gone to bed. He was unusually restless after the surgery, so he decided to write to his wife and daughter. By the time he eventually finished, it was close to sunrise.  
  
He crept back into the Swamp, trying not to wake Hawkeye and Trapper. As he sat on his bed, untying his bootlaces in the dark, he did not notice the shadowy figure creep through the doorway. By the time he felt the hand over his mouth and the pinprick in his back, it was too late. BJ could not help but slip into numb darkness. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
It was just gone seven in the morning when Hawkeye began to leave the world of slumber. He had tried to move in his sleep, but found he couldn't, so he had involuntarily woken up to find out why. When he eventually opened his eyes, he wondered why he could not move. He wanted to stretch his arms and legs, but found that they were not going anywhere.  
  
"Hey," he murmured not altogether alert yet. He tried to roll over, but again nothing. "Hey," he moaned, louder this time. When he tried to sit up, he finally yelled, "Hey!"  
  
BJ was woken by this. He was startled, but when expected to jump from his rude awakening, he was surprised to find that he didn't. "Huh?" he muttered. He tried to remember back to the few hours previous. He recalled untying his boots, and then nothing. And now, he couldn't move. Was he paralysed? In a coma? Incredibly drunk?  
  
"Hawkeye?" BJ called out, not sure whether he would hear an answer. "I can't move!"  
  
"Neither can I," Hawkeye voiced. "I can just see the ceiling, and what likes a huge white rug or something over me."  
  
BJ tilted his head, and was taken aback to see a large, white log shape where his arm was meant to be. It was the same on the other side. "I think I'm in a body cast!"  
  
Hawkeye decided that he too was in the same predicament. "Next question. Why?"  
  
"You weren't in one earlier, at about five in the morning. What time is it now?"  
  
"Sometime after six, since the Sun's up," Hawkeye worked out. "What were you doing up at five in the morning?"  
  
"Not sleeping. Speaking of which, is Trapper up?"  
  
"Good question. Trap!"  
  
After a moment, a grunt could be heard, followed by a questioning sound, then a gasp, and ending in, "Hey, I can't move!"  
  
"He's up," BJ concluded flippantly.  
  
"Trap, we got a visit from the body cast fairy in the night," Hawkeye informed him.  
  
Trapper was lost for words before he finally asked, "Why?"  
  
"I wondered that, and still don't know."  
  
"I think that before we ask that we should think about how we are going to get out of the casts," Trapper suggested.  
  
"That's another good question. How?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
BJ was already trying something. It was taking a long time, but he using the little space between the cast and his legs to manoeuvre the cast so it hung over the side of the bed. Once he was satisfied, he lunged forward so that all the weight went to his legs, and he was in a standing position.  
  
Hawkeye saw the end result of this and asked, "now what?"  
  
Unfortunately, BJ's journey was not yet over. As rules of physics, especially gravity and moment, took their toll, BJ found himself falling forwards, his head going straight towards the stove. He was blessed that it was not hot, but he still took an almighty crack to his head.  
  
Hawkeye and Trapper winced as the crash filled the air. "Beej?" Trapper asked.  
  
On hearing no answer, Hawkeye growled, "all right, the joke just stepped over the line." At the top of his voice, he yelled, "HELP!"  
  
Trapper caught on. "HELP!"  
  
Margaret, who had just left the Mess tent after some kind of breakfast, ran towards the cries. She could not believe the sight she was greeted with as she entered the Swamp.  
  
"Margaret, help BJ," Hawkeye commanded, frustrated at being unable to do anything himself.  
  
As she checked him over, Margaret asked, "What on earth happened to you?"  
  
"You know about as much as we do," Trapper told her.  
  
"No one can even begin to understand how much I need to scratch my nose," Hawkeye moaned.  
  
"Oh, here," Margaret said as she aided Hawkeye.  
  
"How's Beej?"  
  
"Concussed," BJ moaned as he came round.  
  
"Never mind your head, look at that dent in the stove," Trapper joked.  
  
"Shall I get someone to get you free?" Margaret asked, trying and failing to withhold her laughter.  
  
"Nah, don't worry, get yourself some breakfast first, have a shower maybe, do some Post-Op duty if you like, heck just go home to the States, we're all quite comfortable here!" BJ griped with sarcasm.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes."  
  
"Ignore him," Hawkeye advised. "He's concussed. But, please do get us out of these soon."  
  
"Sure, I'll go get someone," Margaret replied, heading out of the Swamp and laughing to herself.  
  
"It's not funny!" BJ yelled at the top of his voice, and immediately regretting it as his head thumped.  
  
After what seemed like hours, the three captains were free. BJ's head injury was taken care of, and he was ordered, by Hawkeye and Trapper, to rest for the remainder of the day.  
  
"You think I'm going back to that bed again? Are you nuts?! Last time I tried that, I woke up following mummification!"  
  
"Look, how about we post someone outside the Swamp, to keep guard," Hawkeye suggested.  
  
"We were gonna do that anyway, to make sure you didn't run off into another war."  
  
"Fine, fine, whatever." BJ put his hand to his head. "Man, I really need to lie down somewhere."  
  
"Margaret, can you take him back to the Swamp and make sure he's okay?" Trapper asked. "Hawk and I are gonna find out who the joker is."  
  
"How do you plan on doing that?"  
  
"Going to Radar, because he knows everything. He's going to write an encyclopaedia on the war when it's over."  
  
"Or a book at least."  
  
"He told us so."  
  
"Klinger's going to be in it."  
  
"All right," Margaret interrupted. "Find him before the book gets published." She gave Trapper a kiss before she escorted BJ to the Swamp for some well-deserved sleep.  
  
It was a little after midday before Hawkeye and Trapper found the young corporal. He was patching up a hole at the back of the Ladies' Showers.  
  
"Awh, Radar, don't do that," Hawkeye whined.  
  
"Do what?" Radar asked innocently.  
  
"Do what you're doing now. Fixing that hole. It's sacred, even got an imprint of my eyelid in it."  
  
"There'll be others," Radar consoled him. "Anyway, do you guys want something?"  
  
"Yeah, information," Trapper stated.  
  
"So why come to me?"  
  
"Because you are the eyes, ears and even the nose of the camp," Hawkeye enlightened him.  
  
"I am?" Radar asked suspiciously. "Is that a good thing?"  
  
"It is for us, since we want information," Trapper said, seeing how the plan was working. They would get Radar's head to swell enough for the two surgeons to burst it and gather the information that leaked from it, metaphorically speaking.  
  
"Yeah, we are but humble drinkers of you, the fountain of knowledge."  
  
"This camp wouldn't be able to run itself with out," Trapper added, thinking about the ring of truth in that statement.  
  
"So, can you help?"  
  
"Sure," Radar gushed, his pride taking over. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"Who pulled that prank?"  
  
"Prank? Oh, you mean." Radar stopped, knowing that he had just landed himself in it.  
  
"All right, Radar. Who did it?"  
  
"Did what?" Came the feeble and futile reply.  
  
"Too late for that, Radar," Hawkeye warned. "Who was it, before we make you three foot five instead of the your usual five foot three."  
  
Now was not the time to argue with the livid captains about things as trivial as his height. Radar decided that the only option was to give in and reveal all. "All right, you got me. It was Colonel Blake. He did it." Radar hung his head in shame.  
  
Hawkeye and Trapper looked at each other. "Henry?" They both burst into uncontrollable laughter.  
  
Radar looked up. "I helped him," he bravely stated.  
  
The two captains stopped laughing. "Ah, now it makes sense."  
  
"I think we should go to pay Henry a little visit," Hawkeye decided.  
  
Henry was struck dumb. It couldn't be. Could it really be true?  
  
"Could it be?" he whispered in a voice that was barely audible.  
  
Henry had finally found and opened the letter that he had forgotten about whilst he was in surgery. His only regret was that he hadn't opened it earlier.  
  
It was then that Hawkeye and Trapper barged in. "Henry, we'd like a word with you about what we woke up with this morning," Trapper began.  
  
"Yeah, the nurses were great, but our attire was really not to our liking," Hawkeye added. Henry was still staring into space, unaware of the presence of the two displeased Captains.  
  
"Hey, Henry?" Trapper asked.  
  
"Earth to Henry," Hawkeye called, waving his hand in front of the Colonel's eyes.  
  
"We've driven him mad."  
  
"Guess that explains his behaviour."  
  
"The appendix must have been the last straw."  
  
"I'll get some more straws."  
  
"I told you the appendix was a bad idea," Trapper reminded him. "He definitely wanted his tonsils back more."  
  
"You guys," Henry began acknowledging their presence for the first time.  
  
"What is it, Henry?"  
  
"This letter," he began. "It. it says."  
  
"Come on, Henry. Spit it out!"  
  
Henry took a deep breath. "I'm going home." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
As Henry shared the news, Hawkeye and Trapper were left dumbstruck for a moment. Hawkeye found his voice first. "Henry, that's fantastic!"  
  
"It's terrific," Trapper added. "Congratulations! We need to give you the biggest send-off in history!"  
  
"You can't," Henry sighed. "I guess this is a lesson to all the people who don't open their mail on time. I leave today."  
  
Hawkeye and Trapper could only stare. It was all so sudden, so final, with so much to be done.  
  
"You've got a lot to do," Hawkeye finally informed him.  
  
"We'll help," Trapper volunteered.  
  
"Yeah, we'll be at your disposal. What do you want us to do?"  
  
"Right, well, um, let's see now. First, best tell."  
  
"Here sir."  
  
"Radar," Henry finished his sentence.  
  
Knowing that now was not a time when they would be needed, Hawkeye and Trapper exited quietly.  
  
"Take a seat, Radar," Henry said. He was not looking forward to telling Radar of his latest news.  
  
Nothing got past Radar. "What's up, sir?"  
  
"Radar, I'm going home," Henry smiled slightly. "I got my discharge."  
  
Radar looked up. "That's great, sir," he said gleefully. "When do you leave?"  
  
This would be the hardest part. "Today, Radar. I leave today." On seeing the young man's face drop, he added, "I'm sorry, Radar. I."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry about, sir," Radar interrupted in a brisk, serious voice. "I'll begin organising things straight away." He left the room, almost running.  
  
Henry sighed. He didn't blame Radar for running out. Henry had been like a father to him, and in return he saw Radar as a son. After losing his own father suddenly once, Radar was about to lose a second father again, suddenly.  
  
He sighed again. Henry's greatest desire was to go home, to leave the war and get out of the nut farm that was Korea, but it had its price. It meant leaving behind the people who had made it tolerable, the people who he looked on at as a second family.  
  
Realising that he had so much to do in so little time, he got up to start packing his things.  
  
An hour later, Henry had the belongings in his office boxed and outside waiting to be picked up. He was about to make a start on his tent when the phone rang.  
  
"M*A*S*H 4077th, Colonel Blake here," he answered.  
  
"Ah, Henry," came the familiar voice.  
  
"General Clayton, how are you?" Henry asked.  
  
"Oh, fine, fine. I would have called you earlier, but we've just gone through a busy spell over here. How are you getting on with packing, organising, and such things?"  
  
Henry thanked his lucky stars that he'd opened the letter when he did. "All organised from this end, General."  
  
"Good, good. Now, the new commander of the unit will arrive tomorrow at the latest. I should like to be at the camp to see you off, and since the war is now quieter here at HQ I thought I'd stay for the night and be there when the Colonel arrives tomorrow."  
  
More work, Henry thought. "Great idea, General. I'll have the VIP tent set up for you."  
  
"Good. I shall see you later."  
  
"Okay sir. Bye now." Henry put the receiver down and sighed. He had so much to do. Pack his quarters, organise the patient and duty rosters, say goodbye to everyone, phone about every place in Korea, and now the General was coming. When would it all end?  
  
He decided that then was as good a time to start as any. "Ra."  
  
"The VIP tent is being set up," Radar called from his office.  
  
He's good, Henry thought slyly to himself.  
  
"Have you sorted out the patients?"  
  
"Yes, Henry."  
  
"And made sure everything was out of my office?"  
  
"Yeah, Henry."  
  
"What about my tent?"  
  
"YES, Henry."  
  
"What if I forgot something?"  
  
"Then we'll mail it to you."  
  
"What about."  
  
"For crying out loud, Henry!" Hawkeye let out his exasperation. "You have an hour before you go. Try and at least enjoy it!"  
  
"Yeah, you're right. I will do."  
  
"By the way, the camp are congregated in the Mess tent at the moment, conveniently waiting for you to say goodbye to them."  
  
"Even BJ, who has a bump on his head the size of a golf ball."  
  
"I should really apologise to him before I go," Henry chuckled.  
  
In the Mess tent, Henry stood up at the platform. He was facing his second family for the last time. This was goodbye. For once, he told himself, don't mess up.  
  
"I'll keep it brief. I've got so much to say but if I said it all, we'd be here for the rest of the war. All I can say is this: Thank you. Everyone in this room has been like a second family to me. Everyone gets everyone else through the rough times that we've been in, and you know I had so many of them that I lost count. But, I made it through because of you guys. I couldn't have ended up with a better group of folks as you and I am eternally grateful. Thank you, I will miss you all a lot."  
  
Henry's speech, although slightly babbled, brought tears to eyes and a standing ovation from his staff.  
  
"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, which nobody can deny!" The camp sang as Henry managed to laugh and cry at the same time.  
  
As the camp dispersed, Henry caught Radar. "In my office please, Radar," he commanded.  
  
Radar did as he was told and walked silently behind Henry. He was unsure of what he was about to face, and did not really want to think about it. They walked into the room and Henry closed the door.  
  
"All right, Radar," Henry began seriously, and then softened. "I wanted to thank you personally. Thanks for everything. The list is far too long to name everything that you've done." Radar looked up as Henry continued. "I'll write when I get back, I promise. Just because I want to get back home and forget about the war doesn't mean I want to forget about the people in it."  
  
Radar smiled, for probably the first time that day. "Thank you, sir." He saluted.  
  
Hawkeye poked his head in the door. "Henry, the General showed up."  
  
Wonderful, Henry thought to himself with sarcasm.  
  
Outside, the entire 4077th had showed up to say goodbye to their leader. General Clayton walked over to Henry as he exited his office.  
  
"Henry," the General greeted, shaking his hand instead of saluting.  
  
"General, made it just about in time," Henry said as he saw his jeep trundle towards the camp in the distance.  
  
"No need for army formalities today, Doctor Blake," Clayton chuckled. Henry knew it would take a while to get used to hearing that again. "The war definitely will not be the same without you, Henry."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Henry took a moment to say goodbye to those closest to him in the camp.  
  
"Father," he began, addressing the good chaplain. "Thank you, and the good Lord, for everything, for every time you have helped me."  
  
"Bless you, my son," Father Mulcahy replied, doing the honours.  
  
"Klinger," Henry began, taking a moment to grasp his outfit. "Hey, you didn't need to dress up for me!" He remembered the day when Klinger vowed never to wear dresses again. He guessed that he didn't mean on special occasions.  
  
"You like it?" Klinger asked, posing in a powder blue, off-the-shoulders dress with white gloves, white feather boa, glittering tiara, white purse and sparkling heels. "I think it brings out my eyes." He paused. "Thanks, sir. Thanks for putting up with me. I know that other people wouldn't have been as good as you were to me."  
  
"No problem, Klinger. I've got you to remember back to and laugh about. Goodbye Klinger."  
  
Henry spoke to BJ next. "I've not known you for all that long, but you are someone I won't be forgetting easily, especially if you end up like the other two Swamp Rats. And I'm sorry for the bump on your head."  
  
BJ smiled. "No problem. Best practical joke played on me in years. Thanks Henry, goodbye, and have a safe journey."  
  
Henry faced Margaret next. "I know we've had our differences, Margaret, but over the last couple of months we've gotten on a lot better. My one regret is that we didn't start that sooner. I will miss you a lot."  
  
Margaret saluted one last time. "Thank you, Henry, and I share that regret. Sorry for all those headaches I gave you." Henry embraced her in a slightly fatherly way.  
  
Moving on, Henry began, "Trapper. I thought I'd been through a lot. I missed the birth of my son, I almost had an affair with a girl, Lorraine and I have been through more rough patches than a sandpaper factory, but it ain't nothing compared to what you've been through. You went through hell and back, and you're still here. You've got my eternal admiration for that."  
  
"Thanks Henry. I got lucky. I ended up in a place with the greatest people I've ever met. Thanks for being one of them." They too hugged.  
  
"What can I say, Hawk? You're the life and soul of the party, you're one of the most dedicated surgeons I've have the privilege to work with, you're one of the greatest people I've ever met, and you could probably single- handedly drink my booze cupboard dry. I think that about sums it up?"  
  
"Henry, you just described yourself," Hawkeye laughed. "I'll add a bit: Thanks for everything and more." Hawkeye finished by hugging Henry.  
  
Radar was the last to bid Henry farewell. "Okay, Radar. I'll miss you the most. Be strong, don't let the others push you around, and don't ever stop being who you are."  
  
"Thank you, Henry," Radar whispered. He could not help but shed a tear. He saluted and Henry hugged him.  
  
The commander made sure of one thing before he left. He turned to Hawkeye and said, "Look after him, okay?"  
  
"I will," Hawkeye replied.  
  
After one last salute to the camp, Henry climbed into the now-parked jeep and waved once more as the jeep rolled away into the distance, taking Henry to the land of dreams in the Korean War. Home. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
The Mess Hall was slightly more sombre that evening that it had been in the morning of the same day. The day had been long and eventful, not to mention moving by the end of the afternoon, and the camp was still trying to take it all in and wind down slowly.  
  
Henry's sudden departure had been a shock, and it would take some adjusting to, for some more than others. They were all happy for him, though, and only wished that they could be going with him.  
  
Radar was taking the news well, better than earlier, and although he missed Henry, he was ever thankful that his father figure had survived the war and was going home safely.  
  
General Clayton, after he had finished settling into the VIP tent, went in search of a certain Head Nurse. She was found in her quarters, mending a hole in the shoulder of one of her shirts.  
  
Clayton slipped through the door and crept over to where Margaret was sewing. He put his hands over her eyes and she gasped slightly.  
  
"Guess who?" He purred lightly.  
  
Margaret knew exactly who the hands belonged to, and she was less than happy. "I do not think that the way you are behaving is appropriate for a General, sir," she expressed. She was cross with herself for forgetting that she and the General tended to meet up like this, but that was before; before Frank left and before she fell in love with Trapper.  
  
"You never complained before, why now? Why the sudden change of heart?"  
  
Margaret decided that the truth was the best option in the given situation. "Sir, since your last visit, I've met someone."  
  
The General sat down. "Are you married? Engaged? I can't see any rings."  
  
"It's too soon for anything like that. Recently, he lost his wife and children, and I don't feel that he's ready to talk about marriage."  
  
It was then that the General worked out whom Margaret was talking about. "You mean, you're with Captain McIntyre? Forgive me but you and he haven't exactly been the best of friends. Far from it, if I remember."  
  
"I know, sir, but a lot can happen in a short space of time."  
  
Clayton could see that Margaret was deeply in love with Trapper, more than she had been with any other man, least of all Frank, and he knew that he was wasting his time by pursuing anything with her. "He's a lucky man. Good evening, Major." With that, the General set off back to his quarters.  
  
"And I'm a lucky woman," Margaret whispered to herself.  
  
It was not much later that the lucky man himself dropped by for a visit. "Hey, honey," he greeted her with a kiss. "How are you?"  
  
Margaret smiled. "I'm okay, how was surgery?"  
  
"Only two cases, which was great. One, my one, was textbook and is doing fine. Unfortunately, BJ isn't having the same luck. He operated, but the guy isn't pulling through so great. BJ's been at his side since the minute the guy left OR."  
  
Margaret was dismayed to hear this news, and nodded understandingly. "He's not had the best day," she said, remembering back to the morning.  
  
"That's another thing," Trapper began, remembering an additional point. "He totally blames himself, because he felt that he was operating below standard what with the concussion and all. He only did it because Hawkeye was tired and had had something to drink. I don't think that was the reason though. The guy was just too far gone to get back to this side without a fight."  
  
Margaret finished her sewing and joined Trapper on her cot. He took hold of her shoulders and gently undid the knots in them with his hands. She relaxed and smiled.  
  
"I've needed that all day," she sighed.  
  
"It's been a long day, but things will soon settle down again, I promise."  
  
"You're really going to miss Henry, aren't you," Margaret stated, reading Trapper's thoughts.  
  
"There's no one quite like him," Trapper answered. "He made it bearable as a commander. I remember being on the plane, on the way to Korea, and thinking that I'd go through hell with a really formal, strict, army guy. Henry made sure it was not like that, much to your dislike," he added cheekily.  
  
His cheek earned him a soft slap around the face. "Okay, I know that to begin with, Henry wasn't my favourite guy in the war. But, once I opened my eyes, I saw how much he did for us."  
  
"Most of it was Radar," Trapper recalled, grinning. "It has to be said, you missed out on some great lectures from Henry. They deserved awards!"  
  
Margaret laughed. "So I've heard."  
  
The couple continued to talk through the night, reminiscing about Henry and the good times.  
  
"I remember getting drunk, and Henry's reaction to that was so funny," Margaret remembered.  
  
"Yeah," Trapper agreed. "It's the best you two got on in ages. If I remember rightly, it was Hawk and I that had the job of sobering you up, because we had wounded coming in."  
  
"And, if I remember rightly, it was you two that were the ones who got me drunk in the first place!"  
  
Trapper laughed at the memory. "I still remember you coming onto me when we were in the showers."  
  
Margaret smiled. "Ironic. I was drunk senseless, but I was doing something right, something any sane woman would do."  
  
Trapper kissed her in reply. "You've done that more than once, and you weren't drunk on all occasions."  
  
"When?"  
  
"At my leaving party, for one time. That time it was the alcohol talking, but it wasn't when we were trapped in the Supply Tent."  
  
"It was a two-way thing both times," Margaret reminded him.  
  
The couple continued to talk through the night, and were not the only ones who were not getting any sleep. BJ could be found sat beside his patient, Private Terry Hammond, with a mixture of feelings containing frustration and concern. Post-Op was dim, a light only from the lamp on the desk used by the nurse on duty.  
  
Hawkeye was strolling through the room when we saw BJ, much to his surprise. He walked over to the bed and sat beside him.  
  
"You know, when that guy wakes up, he's gonna hear rumours that you two are going steady."  
  
"What are you doing up?" BJ asked, not taking his eyes off of the patient in the bed.  
  
"I thought I'd make use of Henry's office and show the new nurse the sights of the 4077th," Hawkeye told him. "I really hope you haven't been sitting here since the minute you got out of surgery." When BJ failed to reply, Hawkeye continued. "Well, that hope just left."  
  
"He should be getting better," BJ murmured. "Why isn't he getting better?"  
  
"Perhaps he's modest and likes to get better without people watching him," Hawkeye suggested. He became serious. "He will. You did everything right, and given time he will get better." Hawkeye yawned and stood up. "Wake me if you ever figure out how to get off that chair. Good luck."  
  
Back in the Swamp, Hawkeye was not surprised to find that Trapper was not there. "Guess he's with Margaret," he murmured, pouring himself a small martini. He silently toasted Henry, and downed the drink.  
  
Hawkeye spent the next hour or so dozing in his cot. He awoke from his slumber when he heard the slam of the door and the groan of a nearby cot.  
  
"Beej? I guess he woke up and told you to get some sleep."  
  
No reply told Hawkeye that he had just put his booted foot in it. He got up, put on his robe and sat beside BJ, who was lying face-up on his cot, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"When?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
BJ swallowed. "Ten minutes ago. He didn't have the will to go on."  
  
Hawkeye stayed silent for a moment. "Some of them don't."  
  
"You could have saved him. I messed up."  
  
"How do you know that?" Hawkeye asked.  
  
"I've seen you do it before. You've worked miracles."  
  
"They're not miracles, they're just the ones that insist on living. It has little to do with capability when you reach a certain standard, one that you are definitely at. You did what you could, and you just couldn't do anymore. Now all you have to do is get your confidence back for all the other wounded guys that need your help."  
  
For the first time that evening, BJ looked at Hawkeye and half smiled. "Thanks," he said.  
  
"What are friends for? Now get some sleep." Hawkeye chuckled to himself as he settled back into his cot.  
  
The next morning, the PA speakers awoke the unit. "Attention, all personnel. A treat from the North Koreans for breakfast this morning. It's incoming wounded. All shifts up and to OR."  
  
Trapper and Margaret, who woke up in each other's arms, hastened towards Pre-Op, where they met up with Hawkeye and BJ.  
  
"No guesses as to where you two have been together," Hawkeye joked lightly.  
  
"In each others arms?" BJ suggested.  
  
"Where else? They appear to mould into each other," Hawkeye added. For that he got water flicked at him, and nothing more.  
  
In surgery, BJ worked alone, so that he could build his confidence back up. Hawkeye and Trapper worked together on a particularly tough case.  
  
Halfway through the session, Radar stumbled into the room, not looking well.  
  
"Radar, mask!" Trapper called.  
  
"If it's my discharge, give it to me straight, I can take it," Hawkeye joked.  
  
"I've got news. The Colonel."  
  
"Henry?" BJ asked.  
  
Radar shook his head. If only. "The new Colonel, he's arrived. He's in the Scrub Room, getting ready to operate."  
  
Radar left, and a voice could be heard outside. "Watch where you're going, Corporal," the man snapped angrily.  
  
Everyone heard the voice. BJ said nothing. Hawkeye's eyes widened beyond belief. Trapper gasped. Margaret dropped the retractor that she had just picked up.  
  
"It can't be," Trapper whispered.  
  
"Colonel Frank Burns," Hawkeye groaned. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
As soon as Hawkeye got out of surgery, the first thing he did was write a letter to his father. He always did this when he needed to explain the war to someone who was not part of it, in order to let off steam in a way.  
  
"Dear Dad," he began, as always.  
  
"Yesterday, I wrote to you about the shock of Henry Blake leaving our unit, getting his discharge and going back to home. This was saddening news, but with a happy ending for Henry. Today, we got another shock, but this one contained happiness for no one."  
  
"Remember me ever writing about Frank Burns, a doctor whose diploma is just about good enough for use in the latrines? The weasel to whom the Hippocratic oath means as much as a hairdryer does to a bald man? He left our midst some months ago, and he is unfortunately back, now a Colonel, and in command of our camp."  
  
"No one has taken the news well. BJ, the man who replaced Frank, is indifferent at the moment, having only just met him, but he says he understands why we were never exactly fond of him."  
  
"When I said that no happiness came of this event, I lied. One small, tiny and absolutely microscopic piece of good news is that I now have someone who I can meaningfully play practical jokes on. Apart from that, the news is intolerable."  
  
"The two who are not taking the news as well are Trapper and Margaret. Trapper, apart from disliking the man, is afraid that Frank is going to take back Margaret from him. I know that is never going to happen, but Trapper needs to be sure of that for himself before he will rest assured."  
  
"Margaret is the most unhappy of the camp. She was comfortable after Frank left, like a huge worry had left her. Now that he's back, the worry is back, and there are probably going to be fireworks around camp for the foreseeable future."  
  
"There is just one other concern, and that is the guys that come through the O.R. doors day in and day out. Not only have we gained a surgeon with less qualifications than a domestic cat, but also someone who eats up at moral like someone who has just finished forty days of fasting. If the North Koreans could see us now, they'd be laughing themselves through the rest of the war. Like I said, Dad, fireworks."  
  
It was late evening when Frank strolled through the camp. He had one destination in mind, one target, one goal. He knocked on Margaret's door, goal firmly set in mind.  
  
"Yes?" Margaret queried.  
  
"It's Colonel Burns, I would like a word."  
  
Margaret was in a most difficult predicament. He outranked her, so she had to obey him, no matter how much she just wanted him to disappear.  
  
"Come in," Margaret sighed. She was still in her army fatigues, which she felt made it feel a more official, less social visit.  
  
Frank walked in, and there was an awkward pause before Margaret asked, "Did you want something, sir?"  
  
"You," Frank whispered, trying to be seductive.  
  
Margaret said nothing until Frank wrapped his arms around her. She pulled away and spun around fast.  
  
"Frank, why are you back here? You asked to be transferred, so why come back three months later?"  
  
"I was promoted, for my excellence in discipline," Frank explained. "They gave me a list of places I could command at. There were three, and when the 4077th came up I took the chance. Colonel Blake, as nice as he was, was really not the sort of commander that I can be."  
  
Margaret had to speak up. "Henry was a good commander."  
  
Frank looked astounded. "What?"  
  
"It was people like you that made his job tough."  
  
Frank rolled his eyes. "You're still different. Pierce and McIntyre have been at you since I left, I suppose. Blinded you," he muttered.  
  
"Blinded me? You think they blinded me?" Margaret spluttered. "They opened my eyes. My life, since they talked to me, had been worth living."  
  
"And it wasn't when I was here?"  
  
"No, Frank. I thought it was, but now that I've seen the real thing, I can safely say that being with you was not my idea of a worthy life."  
  
Frank was lot giving up. "Let me give you what you want." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.  
  
After a few muffled cries, Margaret pushed him away. "Colonel Burns, please leave now!" It was the second night in a row that a superior officer had advanced upon her, and it was getting tedious.  
  
Frank was ruffled by being pushed away. "I think I'll phone my wife. Good night." For once, the mention of Mrs Burns had absolutely no affect on Margaret.  
  
Margaret became unsettled by Frank's visit, so much so that she had to go and talk to someone about it. She knocked on the door of the Swamp, and Trapper's familiar voice called, "Come in, if you don't mind sharing a chair with the rats."  
  
The Major walked I to see Trapper alone. "Man, you sure know how to attract tourists." She attempted to the joke, but her voice wavered.  
  
Trapper was immediately on his feet. "Honey, are you okay? What's up?"  
  
Margaret sat down on Trapper's cot. "Frank came to see me. He wants me back. He tried to kiss me." Trapper had to withhold his anger as she went on. "He left, he was really upset. He doesn't know about us, and I know that if he found out, he'd make our lives a living hell, especially yours."  
  
Trapper took a moment to absorb this. "I don't want to lose you, Margaret, and I'll do anything to keep you. If that means that Frank spends the rest of the war making my life a living hell, then let him. But, I don't want you to get hurt either, so its up to you to decide if you want to stay with me or not."  
  
There was no hesitation as Margaret looked deep into Trapper's eyes. "Of course I'll stay with you."  
  
"Well, that's settled, I guess. Go on, Frank," he yelled aloud, letting his anger and emotion out. "Bring it on!"  
  
On arriving that day, Frank found he had a lot to sort out, a lot of things that Henry Blake had left in a mess. In reality, Radar had kept everything in order, and there was nothing to be done, but after the upset with Margaret an hour previously, Frank wanted to be busy and doing things.  
  
He was heading in the direction of the Officer's Club, where preparing to show the three Captains the new duty roster. He would have gone to the Swamp, had he not been told that Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt were there by Klinger. Indeed, both Captains were there, sipping martinis at the bar.  
  
"Hi Frank," Hawkeye greeted cheerfully, whilst BJ waved a casual salute his way.  
  
"No respect," Frank tutted. "Pierce, and, erm."  
  
"Hunnicutt, BJ, MD, Captain, married, one daughter, six feet three, blonde."  
  
"All right, Hunnicutt, I don't need your life story," Frank groaned.  
  
"You just got it. There's not much to tell," Hawkeye joked, receiving a mild punch in the shoulder.  
  
"Where's McIntyre?"  
  
This caught Hawkeye and BJ off their guard. Should they tell Frank that he was with Margaret, in the Swamp? They knew the two were there, and that was the very reason that they went to the OC. No, telling Frank was definitely not a wise move.  
  
"X-ray, I think," Hawkeye said.  
  
"Yeah, guy with a broken femur came in yesterday, and Trapper wanted to make sure he set it right, because the soldier was complaining of bad pain."  
  
"Just so you can keep up with the conversation, Frank, the femur is the bone in the top of your leg," Hawkeye added.  
  
"I know that," Frank snapped. He shoved the duty roster in Hawkeye's face. "Show McIntyre when you see him." With that, he left abruptly.  
  
"What's his problem?" BJ wondered.  
  
"My guess is, he's probably seen Margaret," Hawkeye mused.  
  
Radar sat by himself as the sun set. Alone in the empty Mess Tent, hugging his knees up to his chest. Never had he felt so helpless, so alone. He shouldn't be crying, so why was he crying? People in the Army never cried.  
  
He didn't know he would miss Henry this much. Sure, the war had to end sometime, and everyone had to go home and go back to their own separate ways, but Henry's leaving was so sudden. The fact that Frank had returned as their commanding officer just worsened the ordeal.  
  
"I shouldn't be crying," he scolded himself. "I should not be crying."  
  
Who could he talk to? There wasn't really anyone. They all missed Henry, so why should he miss him more?  
  
The worst part was the note he had found on his bed that evening. He read it again to himself.  
  
'Corporal O'Reilly, 'I have confiscated your bear. Colonel F. M. Burns.'  
  
Radar put the crumpled letter back in his shirt pocket. How could he do that? He had no right to take it; it did not belong to him. It wasn't fair. Radar never did anything bad to Colonel Burns, at least not this bad.  
  
His train of thought was broken when he heard the Mess Tent door swing open. Radar held his breath - perhaps this person wouldn't see him, he hoped. Radar shut his eyes tight, but he could still hear the footsteps coming closer and closer. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
"Hey, Radar," Hawkeye whispered softly. He sat down beside him.  
  
Radar sighed with relief. It wasn't an enemy Korean, or worse, Colonel Burns. He looked up, his eyes red from crying. "Hey," he said weakly.  
  
Hawkeye had noticed the glint of Radar's glasses in the Mess Tent, and went in to see what was going on. He was concerned to find Radar crying, alone. "What's up?" No quips, no remarks from the master joker. The day had been too long.  
  
Radar hesitated. If he told Hawkeye, the Captain would probably think that Radar was being petty and childish about the situation. "Up? I'm ok," Radar sniffed lamely.  
  
"Come on, Radar, you know me better than that. You can tell me."  
  
Radar decided it was now or never. "I miss Colonel Blake. He was like a father to me, never put me down and was always there for me. Sure, I should be happy that he's going home. But, I can't help but miss him. Now, Major Burns is here, but he's not a Major anymore, he's a Colonel, and he's in charge of our unit. He doesn't seem to have changed for the better, either. He saw my bear on my bunk and he took it from me and left a note in its place." Radar was breathing harder and faster at the end of his quick-paced explanation, and he bowed his head at the end of it.  
  
Hawkeye could not believe the nerve of Frank. He had no right to confiscate anything of anyone's unless it posed a threat to anybody, and how an innocent bear could be a problem was beyond his understanding. He put a comforting arm around Radar.  
  
"He's worse than the war itself. I still can't believe he's running the camp. He couldn't run a fifty-yard dash, let alone a M*A*S*H unit." This caused Radar to giggle slightly. "Don't worry, Radar. I'll get your bear back, even if I don't beat up Frank in the process."  
  
Radar looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Hawk."  
  
Hawkeye returned the smile. "No problem." Henry had told Hawkeye to look after the young Corporal, so he had better do at least one thing he had been asked to do by his former CO. He would have looked out for Radar anyway, whether he was asked to do so or not. It came naturally.  
  
Hawkeye helped Radar to his feet and took him back to the Swamp, where he found Trapper and Margaret.  
  
"Radar, what's wrong?" Margaret asked with concern. She stood up and allowed him to sit on the cot before digging a handkerchief out of her pocket. "Here, it's clean," she offered. She liked Radar, for his energy, enthusiasm, compassion and innocence. She also felt wonderment that such a young person could go to war and survive it the way he had been doing for the past year.  
  
"Radar's bear has been kidnapped by our fearful leader," Hawkeye spoke up.  
  
Trapper sighed harshly. "Frank's doing the rounds tonight."  
  
Hawkeye looked up. "What else has he done?"  
  
"Tried to score Margaret," Trapper said harshly.  
  
"He lost," Margaret added, placing a reassuring hand on Trapper's shoulder, feeling it relax slightly.  
  
Hawkeye, on the other hand, was not relaxed. "That inferior excuse for a human being is trying his luck and starting to run out of breathing room. He's very close to choking - let's see if I can't suffocate him."  
  
"Cool it, Hawk," Trapper warned. "Remember, he's got authority on his side."  
  
"And I've got everything else on mine," Hawkeye declared, storming out of the Swamp towards Frank's office.  
  
Trapper and Margaret looked at each other, at a loss for what to do. One of them was about to say something when they heard a light snore. They turned to see Radar curled up on Trapper's bed, fast asleep.  
  
"Poor little guy," Trapper murmured, pulling the blanket over the sleeping form.  
  
"Yeah," Margaret agreed. "Let him sleep there, he needs rest."  
  
"What about me? Where am I going to spend the night?"  
  
"Well, there's always my tent," Margaret suggested, producing a smile on Trapper's face as they walked out of the Swamp, arm in arm.  
  
Hawkeye burst into Frank's office. "All right, Burns," he growled. "Fine, you've got what you want. You wanted to run this rat factory, and someone granted you that wish. But, one thing you didn't get with that is the right to start torturing and tormenting the members of this camp on the day you arrive. Try to keep the level of camp moral away from negative numbers at least for the first week of your being here."  
  
Frank smirked. He had gotten to Pierce, he had rattled his cage, and he had one up on the Captain. He himself kept calm in reply. "What exactly are you referring to, Captain Pierce?"  
  
"You know damn well. Number one, Radar's bear."  
  
"It is not seemly for a Corporal in the United States Army to sleep with a bear," Frank explained with growing exasperation.  
  
"And what right have you got to take it from him? It's stealing, Frank. Something that is not seemly for a Colonel in the United States Army to do is steal."  
  
"I have the authority," Frank reminded him haughtily.  
  
"I don't care if you're General Flipping MacArthur, I will not let you get away with taking it. It's not yours to take, and I demand that you give it back."  
  
"Oh, you demand, do you? I don't meet the demands of the lower ranks."  
  
"Fine. Do you comply to threats?"  
  
"You can't threaten me," Frank scoffed.  
  
"Watch me. If you don't give back Radar's bear, and if you don't stop harassing Margaret, I will phone your wife and tell her about the affair you had with Major Houlihan."  
  
"You wouldn't!"  
  
"In a second." He meant it. Frank had been the cause of so much strife in such a short space of time that he was prepared to go to great lengths to keep him controlled.  
  
Frank knew he was beaten. He could punish Pierce until he was blue in the face, but in the end the Captain had that threat. He unlocked his desk draw and took out Radar's bear. "Here," he said gruffly.  
  
Hawkeye took it carefully. "Good night," he looked at his watch. "Or would that be good morning now?"  
  
Hawkeye took the bear back to Radar in the Swamp, and smiled slightly when he saw him sleeping peacefully on Trapper's cot. He put the bear beside the sleeping figure and pulled the blanket further over him to keep him warm.  
  
He sat down beside the cot, bending one knee up to his chest and stretching the other leg out on the floor.  
  
"You know something, Radar," Hawkeye spoke softly. "Having Frank back is like having our own private war. Maybe he'll get nicer," he thought about this for a moment, "but then, they say a leopard never changes its spots. Don't worry, though. Together, we'll make it through. I promise."  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
A.N: There is more to come soon, don't worry; I won't leave it there! Thanks for all the reviews, particularly Frankie! Woo! 


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